Blue
by Darker Aria
Summary: The ending to Life is Strange was a unique one, but not the only one. Because of Max's disruption of time, alternate realities came into the picture. What if the main events in the game were slightly different? Jefferson, Nathan, Kate; all their stories were different. Chloe's story was different. Maybe they would be together without the destruction of everyone else. M, Pricefield


**A/N: Hey all. To those that actually have me in their subscriptions and get emails about when I do stuff and decided to read this, welcome. Glad you're here. Sorry I've been awful at doing stories. To those that found this by other methods, also welcome, I hope you like what you've found.** **Skip down to the actual story now if you want to bypass any comments from me that aren't in the story, but about the story.** **First: no promises about this one, guys. I love Life is Strange and I ship Max and Chloe so hard that I needed to rewrite their story. The other fictions on this website didn't do it for me, and my heart couldn't take it. Second: I'm purely doing this to ease my heart, but I do love to hear from other people, so I figured why not share it and see what happens. Third: About the Brittana fic I did probably years ago that I haven't done anything with, I also can't promise that I'll work on it. I need inspiration guys, and the show sucked at that. Inspiration either comes by people telling me I'm awesome or I get attached to it. Not being completely busy or obsessed with videogames would help, too.** **  
** **I do have great plans with this one. It definitely incorporates stuff that happens in the game and stuff that is from me, but a blend of it. So as a better summary of this story: It's an alternate universe with all the characters, where some things are the same as the universe from the game, but things are also different, and at one point they collide. I really needed my Pricefield. I just need to actually write it down. Perhaps sleepless nights will help. But any other questions or commentary, message me, I'll get back to you quickly. Other than that, please enjoy.**

Pictures give memory a new meaning. Memories are only for one person to take out and put back as they please; always slightly modifying it without meaning to every time they pull it from their memory bank and place it back, which then permanently changes it. Pictures, at least, capture a memory in a physical form for everyone to share and remember from, arguing to prove that their memory is the accurate one but being able to have one true, precise snapshot of their past.

My passion is photographing life into these physical forms, even though they are only moments lasting less than one second. There is something about having an image that I don't have to conjure up in an incomplete form in my mind, but have right in front of me to stare at and contemplate as I wish, that fills my heart with the appropriate emotions: seeing a sunset and feeling warmth and contentment, a picture of a dog and feeling excitement and adoration, or the picture I took of a blue butterfly that always makes me feel a mixture of love...and pain.

"Art is one of the many forms of self expression. Photography is one of the many forms of art. As I've been teaching you this semester up until now, in which I could only hope you've paid attention to because this school does not pay me enough to make sure, one by one, that you are listening and learning from my yammering, to be a true artist you must put yourself into your artwork. Good artists steal. Great artists take and make their own work out of those of the past. It's called innovation, people. You are of a new set of humans with different thoughts and feelings. Show the world that you are no copycat, but an improviser using the tools of the past! ...Is anyone not on their cellphones?" Mr. Jefferson was eyeing the class with a look that can only be described as complete disappointment. "I know this generation is known to dislike the superiority who try to lecture them, and I'm sure the Internet could tell all of you the many ways of angling a picture better than I can, but it is my job to at least make it interesting for you all so this lack of attention must mean I'm not as interesting as I thought."

Mr. Jefferson was the only teacher I would ever describe as interesting in his teaching methods. His down to earth way of communicating with his students is different from the other approaches like Ms. Grant who's funny and relatable at times, but has to do so much from the book that it blocks her personality.

Looking around myself, I noticed that pretty much everyone was either tapping away on their phones or messaging on their computers. Mr. Jefferson was looking at the small group of students in his class, hoping to catch the eye of someone. I then noticed that his gaze was slowly moving towards my seat directly across from where he was standing. Being the center of attention was not my forte. In fact, the thought of him locking eyes with me made me nervous because his stare was usually intense, contemplative, and gave me the feeling that he was working out my very thoughts. Don't get me wrong, he's my favorite teacher. He just always makes me feel like I'm slacking and he has these huge expectations of me, expectations I don't even have for myself.

Then it finally hit me that his eyesight was one person away from reaching my own, and rather than giving him an excuse to talk to me because I had been paying attention, I quickly tried to whip out my phone and pretend I was busy on it, too.

"Max Caulfield."

"Damn it," I muttered to myself as I regrettably lowered my phone to look up to see Mr. Jefferson staring at me with a smile on his lips and his eyes looking amused. He seemed to have a way with playing with his students and it only reminded me of a cat playing with a mouse he knew he could easily catch. And eat.

"I know you were trying to hide the fact that you actually care about what I have to say but didn't want to seem like the only one, despite your attempts at hiding behind a screen like everyone else here. So please, make my existence seem like it has purpose and tell me your thoughts about this photo." Mr. Jefferson walked over to his desk where his computer sat and turned on the overhead projector which displayed some image on the screen in front of the class. It was hard to make out what it was because of the light in the room, but he solved that problem by flicking the light switch and turning them off. The change in light also broke the other kids out of their trance since their screens grew brighter, making them notice a difference in the room around them, which meant that everyone had their attention on what was happening in class, which was Jefferson singling me out.

"Go on, Max."

With a mighty gulp and slight cuss at the edge of my tongue, I took a good look at the picture displayed before the whole class. It was a photograph of some dilapidated street with makeshift housing on both sides. There was not a single person in that photo, and it seemed to be taken at an hour that would make it likely that no one would be up. The sky was nearing a full blue, but the horizon was a luscious orange and yellow, meaning that dawn had arrived. If there were people about, they would probably be dirty, sick, and clothed with rags; poor and unhealthy. Everything about that street made me think that the whole place was about to collapse because of how unkempt it was, except nearing the back of the photo was a huge crack in the earth; huge if someone were standing by it, I mean. It was rather small in the photo, but it could only mean one thing.

"Imminent doom."

"Is that what you would name it or is that your opinion on this artist's career?" Jefferson commented with a smile. A few people around me snickered, and if I wanted to I could probably name the exact ones.

"No. I mean, this picture gives me the feeling of an imminent doom approaching this street. Although it is because of how early in the morning the picture was taken, the scenery looks abandoned and gives off that same sensation; as if everyone vacated." I tried my best to speak as if I were actually confident in my words. I was pretty sure that my commentary was accurate, but there's always that "what if" creeping in the back of my thoughts that makes me think I'm saying it all wrong.

"But why 'Imminent doom', Ms. Caulfield?"

" _Emo much?_ " I heard somebody whisper with a quiet laugh following afterward. Probably Victoria Chase with the comment and one of her lackeys laughing in reply.

"Because...Because clearly there is an earthquake about to happen."

" _Heh..._ excuse _me?_ " Victoria whispered again, drawing out the word in clear sarcasm. A few other people chuckled, but Jefferson held his smile. I knew he was expecting me to continue, regardless if what I said was true or not. Something about the whole "only artists know what they intended, but it's not the artist's job to always have the intention clear" thing. It's all guesswork...which is basically all of my life. For example, I'm guessing if this spotlight on me will have negative effects after class or not.

"I-I mean, just guessing-"

"Never guess, Max. Put your entire soul into your speculations," Jefferson interrupted to correct.

Struggling to find words, I hesitated a second and spit out whatever what get this over with. "There are clear cracks in the ground at in the back of the picture. Whether it's because of the poor setting or not, I think those are cracks of an oncoming earthquake. AndthatiswhyIthinkthatit'simminentdoom," I sped through the ending and sat down quickly, looking down to avoid the other gazes. All I wanted to do was just take pictures with my camera, photograph life, not participate in it. That's for the subjects of my picture to do, not me.

I just wanted this topic and this attention to be over with, but knowing my life, that wouldn't come easy.

"Excuse me, Mr. Jefferson?" The voice could only belong to Victoria Chase, her questioning vocals (but not really questioning, just to place herself into the spotlight I so wanted to be out of) rung louder than my own. I heard the scrape of her chair as she moved to stand up. "I don't think that this picture is about an earthquake at all. I mean, this entire street signifies a poor third world country, and how something so familiar to us, those in a first world country, could be the same for others who aren't as lucky. We see streets like those all the time. As do they, just different. And it's important to see the difference for different kinds of people, yet it's so ordinary in most people's' lives. That's what the photographer is trying to capture here."

I didn't have to look up to know that Victoria was wearing a satisfied smirk on her face and probably glanced over at me to see if I was looking at her "prideful intelligence". Unfortunately, I couldn't help but sneak a peek, and sure enough she was smirking. She even granted me a quick eye contact after noticing my head movement.

"Very good commentary. Very good commentary from both of you." Jefferson moved over to his computer without turning the lights back on. He looked as if he was about to show another picture, and I knew the odds that he would pick on me again were low, but it didn't stop the nerves from starting up again.

"The amazing part is the one of those commentaries was actually correct about the artist's reason behind the photo."

Victoria gave a satisfied "hmph".

"This photo was taken mere moments before an 8.1 earthquake. It devastated the whole town, left numerous dead and even more injured."

I immediately looked up at that. _I was right? I was right!_ The smile that grew on my face wiped out the nerves that had been flowing through me. One look towards Victoria made it grow because she allowed one moment of complete disbelief before immediately changing face to look like she didn't care.

"Whatever…" she muttered. "Not like there's any proof... Jefferson could be lying just to spare Max from having her feelings hurt."

As if the moment couldn't have gotten any better, Jefferson proceeded to show a video clip of some news station covering this earthquake and it even featured the photo of the photographer.

 _Don't even look, Max. If she knew how much joy you were getting out of this, you'd be sure to not come out of this unscathed._ I told myself, as much as I wanted to see the look on her face.

Jefferson finally turned off the projector and turned back on the lights. He faced the class, gave me what I thought was a "good job" nod, and said, "This is what I want you all to remember: Every picture takes one moment out of life, moments that, as humans, we can never get back. You never know when a photo that you take will capture a moment so perfect that what comes after that moment changes many lives permanently. It doesn't have to be as serious as a natural disaster. But you never know what moments happen after the one you take, so keep taking those last moments. Always take the shot."

It sort of sounded like he was saying some sort of goodbye. Or an omen. Usually omens were bad, but the hope he had in his voice despite the picture of the oncoming earthquake he showed us made me think of it as an inspiring thing. Then again, this whole lecture could be him just inspiring us for our photos to enter in the Everyday Heroes contest. He's been trying to get everyone in his class to enter. The best photo gets to be displayed in this super cool gallery in San Francisco for important people to see. It's supposed to be this huge deal, but it's so huge that it overwhelms me to the point where I want no part of it. Victoria Chase and her not-so subtle flirting could go to California with whatever picture she turns in. She's a shoo-in since she could basically buy her way to first place, but she doesn't need to because her works are always amazing. I wouldn't stand a chance even if I tried.

Before Jefferson could go into the rant that was sure to come about the Everyday Heroes contest, the bell rang. I couldn't release a bigger sigh of relief.

"Of course, the bell signals you all to leave. I'm sure you all have been counting down the seconds to disperse and enjoy being teenagers stuck in the digital age. Don't forget what I'm trying to teach you, and don't forget to turn in your pieces for the Everyday Heroes contest!"

Umph, there it is.

"Victoria, good job on yours. Taylor, don't forget about your assignment you 'misplaced' and have yet to turn in, and Max, I know you hate the spotlight but you look like you could use a tan, and it does suit you." That was Mr. Jefferson's way of saying 'good job' but that only added more of a sunburn than a tan.

I threw all of my things into my bag (my journal, camera, and pens), and started to walk out hoping that I wouldn't be stopped. I was stopped, however, but not from someone who was sure to make fun of me for speaking my mind.

"Hey, Max. I, uh, just wanted to tell you that you did really good today after Jefferson picked on you." Kate Marsh was one of the few people in this school that gave me the time of day but in a nice way. She'd get picked on as well by the other kids that usually teased me, but most left her alone unless they found a good reason to do so. If I actually talked more to the people around me, we could possibly be good friends, but I stick more behind the camera and because of that I don't even know Kate's favorite color.

"I just wish I had like, a fifteen minute warning so I could mentally prep," I attempted my best at conversing like a normal person.

"Haha, yeah, I wish that were the case if anyone spontaneously talked to us. There wouldn't be any awkward moments," Kate agreed and smiled, although a bit sadly. There was obviously something the matter with her, but I didn't feel like it was right for me to pry about that. She had other friends whom I was sure would ask her and help.

"True that. But thank you. At least one person didn't think I was completely embarrassing myself," I said. She nodded a "you're welcome" but it was still with that sad overall tone. I couldn't just stand there noticing but not doing anything.

"Hey, I think it's been long enough since I started this school to try and communicate with the others here. You want to get some coffee or something one day and hang out?" I had been going to Blackwell Academy for about three months now. From Seattle back to the small hometown of Arcadia Bay, I returned because of this killer scholarship to this school that's supposed to help me on my way to becoming a great photographer. Might as well "involve myself" with some of the community.

Surprisingly, my invitation lit up Kate's face.

"Yeah! Yeah, sure. I'd love that," she spoke, her smile more like a smile.

"Great! Well text me when you're free and we can figure out a good time."

"Sure."

And with that, I walked away feeling even better about my day. It's very rare that multiple good things happen one after another for me. More like, good things happen in a bad thing sandwich; one good thing followed by three or more bad things to end with a good thing. I just needed to make it outside without a specific bad thing named Victoria getting in my way.

I was almost out the door when I heard, "Ms. Caulfield, don't you think about leaving before we discussed your entry for the contest."

I paused, steps away from being completely outside of the classroom, and internally groaned before pulling a pivot and walking back to Mr. Jefferson.

"Now, don't give me that look, Max," he said with his still amused tone. He had been speaking to Victoria about her entry, but for some reason needed to interrupt her to talk to me.

But she couldn't just let him do that.

She waved her hand in front of him, and side stepped in front of me, to say, "Um, excuse me, Mr. Jefferson. We weren't done talking about what I was thinking of turning in. Max should wait her turn and not butt into our conversation."

As he glanced down at her, his amused look vanished and he gave a stern, "Ms. Chase, we've been done talking about your entry for five minutes. It's great, I told you that. Max isn't butting in, I invited her because she actually needs to at least talk to me about turning one in." And with that, he inched his gaze back up to me with that stern look. "Well, Max?"

Victoria looked between him and me for a second, huffed, and then did a 180 to strut out of the classroom.

I rolled my eyes and Mr. Jefferson continued, "As I was saying, you are entering a photo, right, Max? I know that you know that you have potential. Your work, yes even your 'selfies', are very admirable."

All I wanted was to escape reality for one second. The sooner I finished this needless conversation about some contest I'd rather not do, the better. But I knew that if I told him the real reason why I'm not entering, he would try to get me to do it anyways.

"You see… I don't have an entry that I would deem good enough. There's so many that I've taken, and so many more I could potentially take. I may shoot a great picture in a few hours but it's worthless if I turned in one today that is mediocre in comparison."

He gave me a hard look, and I was sure that he was able to see through my bullshit, but surprisingly enough he said, "I understand the struggle when deciding which piece of artwork is worthy enough to show the world. I don't want to pressure you, but at one point you're going to have to trust your work and let yourself be vulnerable in front of people. It's all excuses now, but you never know what would happen if you tried. Now's a good time to practice if anything. Just promise me that you'll really consider entering one?"

"I'll try, Mr. Jefferson," I told him, knowing I wouldn't even though the way he worded it made me think that he would choose any of my photos. I wasn't sure why he was pressuring me so much, but that ended our conversation so I tried not to look like I was in a hurry when I walked out of there.

The thing about high school is that one room if only one section of hell. It is connected by hallways of hell to lead to doors that open to the fiery pits of hell themselves in which the school can't completely keep you "safe" from. All around me were people my age talking amongst themselves, keeping to themselves, trying to ruin the lives of those around me. The Vortex club of Victoria and her minions weren't too far away from me and just as I entered the hallway, Victoria's eyes met mine. She immediately looked away, said something, snickered, and her minions laughed along.

The whole thing made me feel like I had no room to breathe. The hallways seemed back with people, even though it wasn't. The air seemed dense. And all I could think about were the people talking about me or looking at me as if I were a three-headed alien, and then laughing about how weird I was. I didn't want to handle it, so I chose not to. I plugged my earbuds in and headed straight to the bathroom where I figured I could get a moment to myself, even if it was in a stall.

Music helped in any situation, and walking down the corridor I didn't have to completely focus on the people around me maybe or maybe not thinking and talking about me. The crowded atmosphere seemed brilliant for a photo of someone like me. Shot from the back of the head, blurring out the other people so you couldn't tell faces; it would be a beautiful image. But thankfully my exit had arrived in front of me and I took out my earbuds to enter this sanctuary.

I opened the bathroom door to find it completely barren of people. Finally, I was able to just let go and breathe. Too many people outside and too many responsibilities I had to remember. But for one second in the hellhole that's high school, I'm able to think in peace, in a girls bathroom of all places.

I turned towards the mirror and saw that some paper artist at this school drew a very nice mustache and glasses in the mirror so that if you lined up your face well enough, it would look like you were wearing the mustache and glasses. That deserved a picture, but even if I was able to figure out a way to photograph this without the camera being in the way, I wouldn't want it to be of me.

There were also a few posters scattered among the other graffiti in the bathroom, mostly about the upcoming dance and the Everyday Hero contest. The graffiti was typically interesting to read. There was a "VORTEXERS ARE COMPLETE SLUTS" with an appropriate "VORTEX CLUB = LYFE" to balance it out. Unfortunately there was one that said "Kate Marsh sex-line ###-#######," but I was pretty sure that wasn't her actual phone number. There were other graffitis specific to some girl at this school in other places in the bathroom. I was actually able to find one about me, "Max Caulfield, go fuck your selfie". Beautiful. At least they're original.

I did take my camera out for this one piece of calligraphy. It read "don't believe the lies written in ink by those that don't understand the pen". It was surrounded by the other gossip ridden posts, but I planned on blurring part of those out so that you can tell they're negative, but not anything specific to the people at this school. One quick shot. Perfect.

I was about to put my camera away and exit back into society when I noticed the weirdest thing. In the corner of my eye I saw this vibrant blue. A small turn of my head revealed that it was actually a blue butterfly flittering around in the corner of the bathroom where the janitor's equipment was.

 _How did this guy even get in here?_ I questioned. He, or she, was absolutely stunning. The blue was a color you did not see often. I had to take a picture.

It landed on the stick part of a mop, but I took a close enough shot so that you couldn't tell it was a mop. The butterfly quickly fluttered away right after I took its photo. It was as if it posed just for me to take it. Silly thinking, but I was sure I had gotten a very good portrait of it.

I had just put away my camera and was about to start walking out when the door to the bathroom slammed open.

I jumped and peered behind the last stall to see that it was Nathan Prescott, the son of the businessman that apparently owns most of Arcadia Bay.

For some reason, I didn't want to immediately storm out from my hiding spot and confront him about being in the girl's bathroom. He didn't notice me at all, but he seemed panicked. He was pacing back and forth in front of the mirrors with his hands on his head.

"You got this Prescott. You got this. _DON'T_ fuck this up! You own this school. Nobody can hurt you! Nobody!"

It's not like I saw Nathan that much, nor did I talk to him, but from what I knew, he never acted like this. There were a few rumors that he did drugs or was a little crazy, but he never showed off that either of those were true.

"Fuck! Where is that bitch!"

There was no way that I could leave without him noticing, so I stayed in the back and hoped that he didn't come my way. He did check to see if there was anyone in the stalls, but apparently didn't care about the part of the room behind them.

Just then, the door opened again to reveal a girl this time. She seemed totally punk rock with a black jacket and white shirt combo, black jeans, boots to match, and blue hair with a black beanie on top.

"Okay, Nathan. You got the stuff?" she asked with confidence in her voice, yet her eyes were jumping as if she were keeping an eye out for any authority.

"I'm fucking done with this, you know. I told you to STOP texting me!" Nathan wasn't nearly as calm as this girl. He seemed too jumpy, too uneasy. I unconsciously gripped the mop in my hands.

The girl didn't let down her confident front. "You know I have enough shit to end you, right? You either give me what I came here for, or I ruin your reputation."

"HA! You can't ruin me!" Nathan barked back with a crazed smile. That reaction made the blue haired girl drop her smug look for a second. "I'm practically in charge of this school. Fuck, I'm practically in charge of this town! I can have you ruined in seconds! In fact,"

And that was when he pulled out the gun that was hidden behind his shirt.

"I can have you ruined right now."

It seemed like time froze. My hands were clutching the mop tightly now, and I felt prickling by my eyes. I was crying. I was scared.

If I was scared, the other girl must've been terrified. The gun was pointing straight at her face, and she instantly put her hands up.

"You don't want to do this, Nathan-"

"DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO DO! I told you to leave me alone, bitch! A-and this is the last time you will EVER FUCKING bother me AGAIN!"

 _BANG!_

The body dropped to the floor. I was crying now, unable to believe what happened in front of me.

The gun skidded to the wall near the sinks, and Nathan lay unconscious with a bump starting to form on the back of his head, slightly bleeding as well, left by a single blow from the stick of a mop.

For a second, I doubted that neither of us were breathing, but I looked up at the girl to hear her say "fuck" while staring straight at me.

And that was when I recognized her.

"W-wait. W-what?" I struggled to get out of my mouth.

"...Max? Max Caulfield?" The girl said, tears starting to form in her eyes as well.

I couldn't think of anything to say except for the name that belonged to her. "Chloe," I choked out, and instantly I felt so much relief, so much pain, so much thanks that I knocked out Nathan before he shot this person I thought I didn't know, but turned out to be the one person I did know in this town.


End file.
